


Long Legs

by Deastar



Series: They Say Love Heals All Wounds [5]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Established Relationship, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 11:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7506130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deastar/pseuds/Deastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Because you perv on my legs most,” Geno says, as if this is obvious and Sid is being slow.</p><p>Sid sputters, “I do not—perv—on your—”</p><p>Geno reaches out with one long, bare leg – lifting it up to waist level, making the muscles in his abdomen glide under his skin, and then stretching it across the space between them, hooking his foot around Sid’s hip. Sid’s breath dies in his throat. He’s had fantasies that started like this. Not, you know, a creepy amount of fantasies. A totally normal amount. A totally normal large amount.</p><p>Smug, Geno repeats, “Perv on my legs most. I know this.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Long Legs

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to They Say Love Heals All Wounds, but it should stand up okay on its own, on account of basically being shameless porn.
> 
> Thank you to laulan for an insightful and timely beta, and for enabling my intense feelings about Geno's legs and general bendiness ;)

Training is always exhausting, but Andy is pushing Sid especially hard this week. Sid knows he needs it – he and Geno both got a late start on their training since neither of them could stomach the idea of it while they were still fighting off the press every fucking minute of every day. Still, even though Sid knows he needs the push, it’s hard to have the energy for heavy training all day _and_ good sex every night, so he and Geno have been passing out pretty much as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

Sid is just on the edge of that sweet, sweet oblivion— _so_ _close_ —when he feels Geno perk up in the bed next to him. “Sid!” he says suddenly. “I think of something!”

“Okay…” Sid mumbles. He suspects this is not going to help him get the sleep he so very much needs, but Geno sounds very enthusiastic.

“You remember when I fuck your thighs?”

 _Yeah_ , Sid thinks, feeling a flaring heat in his gut, _this is really not going to help me get to sleep_. “Yes, yeah, of course,” he says.

Geno proclaims, “We do all _backward_ , Sid!”

Sid blinks at him. God, he feels wrecked. “Huh?”

“When I fuck your thighs, is backward,” explains Geno. “Should be _you_ fuck _my_ thighs.”

That’s… _fuck_ , that’s definitely an inspiring thought, and one that’s… inspired… Sid before, but… “Why do you think that’s better?” Sid asks, wondering if he’s awake enough for this conversation.

“Because you perv on my legs most,” Geno says, as if this is obvious and Sid is being slow.

Sid sputters, “I do not— _perv_ —on your—”

Geno reaches out with one long, bare leg – lifting it up to waist level, making the muscles in his abdomen glide under his skin, and then stretching it across the space between them, hooking his foot around Sid’s hip. Sid’s breath dies in his throat. He’s had fantasies that started like this. Not, you know, a creepy amount of fantasies. A totally normal amount. A totally normal _large_ amount.

When Geno tugs on Sid’s hip with his foot, reeling him in with that long, graceful leg stretched out between them until they’re chest-to-chest and his thigh is hitched up around Sid’s waist, Sid makes a helpless gurgling noise. God, that’s Geno’s scarred knee, close enough to kiss – and Geno’s slim, muscled calf draped across Sid’s lats…

Smug, Geno repeats, “Perv on my legs most. I know this.”

Sid turns red, but he doesn’t bother feeling bad about any of it – whatever Sid’s thing about Geno’s legs is (and all right, fine, he may have a _thing_ about Geno’s legs), Geno is obviously cool with it. But the question remains, “How did you know… ?”

Geno’s smile turns a little hesitant. “When you can’t get into bed, that one night, because is too high, and I say bed is high because I have long legs, I read that you like. First time I ever read you want me for anything, so I think you like long legs a lot, yes?”

“Oh,” Sid says, remembering that night. “Yeah, I could tell I lost control of that one. And then you—hey.” Sid breaks off, narrowing his eyes at Geno. “If I didn’t make you uncomfortable by letting you read I was attracted to you, why did you take off that night?”

Geno shrugs, and pulls Sid a little closer, as if he needs the comfort. Looking away, he says softly, “First time ever I read you want me, and first I’m happy. But then I think you don’t love me, and is worse, you know? Worse you want this part, but don’t want _me_. Give me a lot of feelings, so I go down to kitchen for water and think.”

“Oh.” Sid leans in for a warm kiss. When he pulls back, he says the obvious: “I do want you. All of you. And I did back then, too.”

“Yes,” Geno agrees. “Want all of me.” Then he smirks. “But legs most.”

Sid blushes. “They’re really nice legs,” he says, helplessly. They’re so different from Sid’s, with his tree trunk thighs and bulging calf muscles. Sid likes his own legs just fine, but Geno’s… Well. They’re great.

“Best legs, yes,” Geno agrees, before explaining, “This is why I think best for fuck, also!” He beams at Sid proudly. “Best legs, you want around your dick, yes? Most sexy for Sid, fuck best, long, sexy legs,” he declares, voice rich with satisfaction. He strokes his thigh up and down Sid’s side, making Sid’s breathing go shaky. Then Geno reaches down for Sid’s hand and plants Sid’s palm right there on the soft inside of his thigh, and murmurs, “Best place for your dick, yes? Best place for your come.”

Sid doesn’t whimper, but it’s a near thing. The thought of Geno’s lean, strong thighs clenched around Sid’s cock—and then, after, sticky and gleaming with Sid’s come—

Sid has to bury his face in the curve of Geno’s neck and breathe deeply, trying to get control of himself. When he can speak without making embarrassing noises, Sid says hoarsely, “Yeah, Geno – I want that. I want that so fucking bad.” And then, with another deep breath for fortitude, “But not tonight, G. We’re both exhausted, and we have training tomorrow morning—”

“No fun, Sid,” Geno pouts, but he doesn’t try Sid’s resolution by wrapping his leg more tightly around Sid’s body, which probably would have destroyed Sid’s self-control for good.

“I want to really enjoy it,” Sid says, and it’s the truth. “I thought about it, for… a long time. But I never thought you’d let me, and now you will, now you _want_ me to and it’s… I want to enjoy every minute of it,” Sid concludes, gaze tracing over the beloved lines of Geno’s face. “I want to take my time with you.”

Geno shivers, which makes Sid feel a little bit less off-balance, and then grins, softly. “Should be special. We make most special. Tomorrow,” he promises.

Sid agrees, “Tomorrow,” and holds Geno close.

*

Of course, the problem with Sid’s resolution is that the next day, he’s completely worthless. When he’s alone with Geno as they’re going through their morning routines, he spends the whole time obsessing over when Geno is going to make good on last night’s promise. And when he’s training with Andy, with Geno and Kadar across the room, Sid is forced to admit that he can’t focus for shit. Geno’s stretches have always gotten Sid hot under the collar, but today he knows he’s going to get to _touch_.

Sid can’t prove it, but he knows, he _knows_ Geno is being especially… bendy… today, just to mess with Sid’s head. When Geno wraps up a set of stretches by lying on his back and pulling his thighs up and up until they’re pressed flat against his chest, Sid trips on the edge of a mat and faceplants on the floor.

When he picks himself up, Andy gives him a long look and then rolls his eyes. “Yeah, go home, Sid. I can tell you’re going to get a plenty good workout tonight, and we’re not gonna get anything done until you do.”

Sid’s face flushes hot, but the pit of his stomach goes cold. He has rules for a _reason_ , and just because Geno is okay with Sid ogling him now doesn’t mean that everyone else feels the same way about it. There’s nothing he can do about Andy and Kades knowing he and Geno are together, but he doesn’t have to shove it in their faces like this. Forcing his voice steady, Sid begins, “I apologize for making you uncomfortable—”

But Andy cuts him off. “You’re _not_ making me uncomfortable,” he says firmly. “Or at least… not any more uncomfortable than I would be trying to train _any_ pair of newlyweds on their honeymoon,” he adds, with a rueful smile.

Sid doesn’t know what to do with that. “Andy… we’re… okay, first of all, we’re not on a honeymoon,” Sid tries, because that, at least, he knows for sure.

“Close enough.” Andy’s smile turns kind. “You’re crazy about him. It’s cute. I’m happy for you, honestly. Now go home before you drop a weight on yourself and I have to explain how you got injured on my watch because you were so mesmerized by Geno’s everything.”

“Oh my god,” Sid mutters, face bright red again. But Andy’s not wrong, so Sid hits the showers and heads home. As embarrassed as he is, it’s nice—odd, but nice—to hear Andy talk about his relationship with Geno as just… normal. When Sid is with Geno around other people, now, he’s used to being a curiosity, and he’s already so sick and tired of hearing himself described as the first, the only, the new. For Andy to say that he thinks of Sid and Geno like any pair of newlyweds… it’s pretty much the best reaction Sid could have imagined.

Geno gets home an hour after Sid, arriving just as Sid’s episode of House Hunters International wraps up. He leans in to steal a kiss, then sprawls out on the couch, poking Sid’s thigh affectionately with his bare feet. “Why Andy send you home early?” he asks.

“He, uh…” This is embarrassing as hell, but he might as well own up to it. “He said I was too distracted,” Sid says, blushing. “He said if I couldn’t focus, there was no—”

Sid breaks off when he sees a distinct look of guilt coming over Geno’s face. “You did it on purpose!” he accuses, jabbing a finger at Geno. “I knew it! I knew you were doing it on purpose—”

Geno sits up and drags Sid into his arms, smushing Sid’s face into his chest with the force of his contrition. “Sorry, Sid,” he mumbles. “I’m not think Andy send you home for distract.”

“You’re the worst,” Sid says affectionately, his voice muffled by Geno’s t-shirt. God, he smells good – it’s so unfair that he smells so good when he’s been such a shit.

Geno lets go enough that he can look Sid in the eye. “Feels good you want me,” he says soberly. “Is why I do. But I love your hockey, and training very important, so I’m not do again, okay?”

“Okay,” Sid says, holding Geno’s gaze. He’s not actually mad, but it’s clear this is important to Geno, so it’s important to Sid, too.

Geno continues, “I promise I’m not distract you on purpose at training again.”

Sid nods. “That’s good—”

“I’m save all my distract for home,” Geno finishes, triumphant. Sid has a sudden feeling of foreboding.

“Uh, Geno…”

And then Geno, with a grin of infuriating smugness, leans back on his elbows and stretches his left leg up until his ankle is on the back of the couch and his legs are splayed wide in front of Sid. Sid’s breath rushes out of his lungs in a _whoosh_. Geno rubs his hands back and forth over the inseam of his jeans, showy, and then smirks at Sid. In a low, low voice, he asks, “You distract now, Sid?”

Sid takes a deep breath, plants his hands on Geno’s knees, and says, “No. My focus is exactly where it should be.” And then he crawls up Geno’s body to lick his way into Geno’s mouth.

“Yes,” Geno gasps between kisses, “You very good focus, most, best.” He wraps the leg that was draped over the back of the couch around Sid’s waist, instead, and Sid’s eyes almost roll back in his head. God, he’s thought about that so many times – some fantasies just like this, just them rubbing against each other, but Sid’s favorites were—

But, Sid reminds himself, Geno hasn’t said anything about wanting Sid to fuck him. He’s never shown any interest in that, and it’s totally fine if he never does. So Sid doesn’t think about that. What he has, here, is more than enough. More than he ever imagined he could have.

Geno complains, “Too many clothes,” and unbuttons and unzips his jeans – but when he starts pushing them down his hips, Sid gathers his courage and asks, “Can… can I?” And Geno blinks and lets go.

Sid breathes in and curls his hand over the waistband of Geno’s jeans. Slowly, so slowly, he pulls them down over Geno’s bony hips, and then, inch-by-inch, down Geno’s thighs – revealing his skin to the summer sunlight streaming through the window. They’re pale, but not white—Geno has tortured Sid via Facebook and Instagram for years with his preference for small bathing suits—and covered with light-brown hair, except on the very inside. Geno’s thighs aren’t thick, like Sid’s, but they’re pure muscle even so – they have the same power, but without the bulk. And they go on for miles.

Sid wants to… well, it’s probably weird, but he kind of wants to rub his face all over them. But he has a private policy of not putting his face anywhere near Geno’s dick—he doesn’t want to make Geno think Sid is going to blow him and then disappoint Geno when he can’t—so, regretfully, he puts that idea on the shelf.

He slides Geno’s pants gently down over his knees, and that’s breathtaking, too – each one sexy in a different way. Sid loves Geno’s bony left knee, smooth and prominent… but nothing fascinates Sid like the ropes of scar tissue wreathing Geno’s right knee, gleaming in the bright sunlight. There’s nothing stopping Sid from putting his face _there_ , so Sid does, delicately licking up one surgical scar and down another. Geno squirms, and Sid sits back, concerned. “Does it hurt?”

Geno shakes his head. “Feels good,” he replies, breathy. “More, Sid.”

“Oh.” Sid’s pretty sure he’s got a goofy expression on his face right now. “Good. Okay.” He leans over and—well, pretty much fellates Geno’s knee. He loves the contrast between the tight, thick skin of Geno’s scars and the thinner, more flexible skin around them – loves lipping at the two kinds of skin, gently biting, feeling the way Geno’s moans get deeper or higher depending on how much pressure Sid puts on the scar tissue.

When Sid finally pulls away and looks up at Geno’s face, Geno looks dazed, and Sid feels a pulse of pride – _he_ did that, he made Geno feel good with his mouth, and Geno liked it so much he asked for more. Sid wants to make Geno feel like that forever.

He tugs Geno’s waistband slowly down over his shins and follows it with his mouth. Geno’s so fucking _long_ everywhere, but especially here, and the slim curve of his calf, tapering down to his ankles, makes his legs seem even longer. When Sid has kissed his way past Geno’s ankle, all the way down to his big toe, he looks up and smiles at the sight before him: Geno, flushed and breathing hard, bare-legged, in nothing but a t-shirt and a pair of boxers tented out in the front.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Sid says, because he can’t not. It’s too much, maybe, or cheesy, but Sid has to tell the truth. “Please, can I… last night we talked about—”

“ _Yes_ , Sid,” says Geno, reaching for him. “Come on, come on, less clothes, then you fuck my thighs, I want—”

“Yeah, I want it—” Sid yanks his shirt over his head, climbs off the couch to shove his shorts and boxers off. Geno is stripping off his own shirt and reminding Sid, “ _Lube_ , we need—”

Sid goes for the bottle in the side table drawer. Sid put it there after the last time they’d fucked in here, because it may be embarrassing to realize that you’re in the stage of your relationship where you realistically need to have lube in every single room in the house, but it’s way _more_ embarrassing to have to interrupt yourself to go sprinting up the stairs with your junk flapping in the breeze every time the mood strikes.

Andy may possibly have had a point about Sid and Geno being honeymooners. Possibly.

“We are going to make such a disaster out of this couch,” he mutters, trying to decide whether or not he cares. Geno makes an impatient noise and stuffs his t-shirt underneath his ass and thighs and then starts to roll over onto his front.

Sid stops him with a hand on his hip. “We can do it that way if you want, but I thought maybe…”

“You can do on back?” Geno looks intrigued. “Yes, we do, we do.” He tumbles Sid down on top of him, instinctively parting his legs around Sid’s hips, then looks annoyed when he realizes that’s not how their bodies need to fit together for this. It takes them a minute to sort out whose knees should be moved where, Sid laughing and Geno shoving at him impatiently.

When Geno is finally stretched out under Sid, his thighs tucked between Sid’s knees and pressed tight together, he smirks up at Sid and reaches down to trace the seam between them with his fingertips. “You want, Sid, yes?” he murmurs, self-satisfied as hell. “Of course you want fuck best, most sexy legs.” He’s giving Sid shit, clearly, but it’s sweet, too – the pride Geno takes in being what Sid wants, _giving_ Sid what Sid wants.

Sid needs that sweetness, because he’s feeling kind of… overwhelmed. This is so much, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to make it good for Geno, and he’s a little worried that, after all this buildup, he’s going to come in thirty seconds flat and have to go hide under the bed in humiliation. “Geno, can you… help me?” Sid asks, not even sure what he’s asking for – but Geno seems to know.

“Yes,” Geno says firmly. “We be team. Here, you put lube in my hand, yes?” Geno holds out a hand and Sid gives him a dollop of lube. Then Geno reaches down with no warning and slicks up Sid’s dick, making Sid whine and buck forward into his hand. “Good,” Geno rumbles. “And now you push in. Easy, yes?”

“Yeah,” agrees Sid, but he waits for Geno’s hand on the small of his back before setting the head of his cock at the seam between Geno’s thighs, just below his balls, and thrusting down.

Sid gasps, trying to take in both the feeling of the tight clench around his dick and the sight of his cock disappearing between Geno’s long, lean thighs. It’s… a lot. But he doesn’t feel like he’s in any danger of embarrassing himself now that it’s actually happening. He meant what he told Geno last night: he wants to take his time with this.

“Are you good?” Sid asks, unashamed of the tremor in his voice. He looks up in time to catch Geno’s nod and hear his soft, “I like, Sid. More?”

“More,” Sid agrees, and he starts to thrust. It’s awkward at first – Sid’s knees are far enough apart that he doesn’t have great leverage. But when he settles down against Geno’s chest and tries a rolling kind of motion—humping more than thrusting, if he’s being honest—that turns out to be better for both of them, not just Sid. The drag of Sid’s abs against the underside of Geno’s cock makes Geno groan and insist, “More, Sid.” And when Sid tries to hold himself up anyway, not wanting to crush Geno, Geno makes an impatient huffing noise and hauls Sid down against his body, purring like a cat when they’re finally pressed together all the way.

With his face resting on Geno’s chest, Sid can hear the racing of Geno’s heart. They’re moving together, sinuous like waves, and Sid feels like he could do this forever. Then, wrecking any kind of higher thought processes that Sid had left, Geno actually starts to _rub his thighs together_ around Sid’s dick. _That’s cheating_ , Sid thinks hysterically, unable to stop his hips from speeding up, rocking frantically, out of control. And then Sid can’t think about anything except the pulses of pressure around his cock, as tight as if Geno were twisting his hand around Sid, and it’s perfect, perfect, _perfect_. Sid’s orgasm feels like it washes right through him, wiping him out and leaving him boneless on Geno’s chest.

It takes Sid an embarrassingly long time to get his brain functioning enough to notice that Geno is still waiting to get his. Geno’s hips are making little twitching thrusts against Sid’s belly, and when Sid opens his eyes, he sees Geno’s long fingers stroking his right nipple rhythmically.

“Here, let me,” Sid says, reaching for Geno’s nipple, but Geno shakes his head and guides Sid’s hand down to Geno’s dick instead.

“Please, Sid, just need a little,” he begs, and Sid says mindlessly, “I’ve got you. Yeah,” while jerking Geno just the way he knows that Geno likes, until Geno shakes and Sid feels his spunk spatter against Sid’s forearm.

Sid drags himself up Geno’s body a few inches for a kiss, and then another, and another. When Sid finally has to take a real breath, Geno smiles widely, wickedly, and says, “Sid, look.” His hand draws Sid’s eyes down, past Geno’s pink-rubbed nipple and the mess of Geno’s jizz on his own stomach, past Geno’s spent cock to…

“Oh,” Sid says, quiet, and he can’t say more because he doesn’t trust his voice.

There’s not a big splatter of come on Geno’s thighs like the one on his stomach – Sid came between Geno’s thighs, not over them, so most of his come is probably soaking into the t-shirt under Geno’s ass. But this is better than a big, obvious splash anyway.

The light pouring through the big living room window is strong – strong enough to pick up every gleam of wetness, even down in the shadow between Geno’s legs. Sid can see the white traces where his cock left a trail when he pulled out, and a thicker gleam lower down, where Sid’s come clings to the vulnerable inside of Geno’s thighs.

 _I did that_ , Sid thinks, and, _This is mine._ Not Geno, of course – Geno isn’t a _this_. He’s not a thing Sid can have possession of, even if Sid has marked his body in this primal way. But _this_ —this image, this memory, this gift that Geno has given him—is Sid’s. No one else will ever see Geno’s body exactly this way. No one else will ever get this clear and sunny afternoon on the couch, with Geno’s heartbeat pulsing in their ear and Geno’s perfect thighs wet with the sign of their pleasure. That’s just for Sid. And nobody can ever take it away.

Apparently Sid said some of that out loud, because Geno nuzzles the side of his face and rumbles, “I’m not thing, no. But I’m yours, Sid. Yours like person is yours.”

Sid nods, accepting that, and he lifts his head to hold Geno’s gaze, trying to show on his face how grateful he is for that fact. The moment is solemn, and sweet—

Until Geno smirks and says, “And best, most sexy legs also yours, Sid. Any time you want distract, I’m distract you _good_.” He proves it by gliding his left leg up and down the outside of Sid’s hip and side until Sid makes an undignified high-pitched noise. Geno laughs at him, and Sid scowls back.

“It’s a good thing I love you,” Sid says, trying for stern and utterly failing.

Geno’s smile goes soft, and he leans down to kiss Sid on the lips. “Yes,” he agrees, smiling against Sid’s mouth. “Is very good thing.”


End file.
